Reality
by DigiExpert
Summary: The reality of what she would have to do to free the soldier from the Simoun sunk in. Her pocket knife was never meant to touch human skin and yet... it did. There wasn't a choice; it simply had to be done.


**I had started another story, but I got this idea today and had to do it. I had a rough day teaching and so sat down this evening to work on it. I was able to do most of it from memory before I had to watch episode 4 to get the rest of my details... I ended up watching most of the episode in the process, but I couldn't resist. I feel so bad for Aaeru, and I hope I do her justice with this piece that focuses on her thoughts and actions we don't see. Enjoy!**

Her vision was blurred; she could barely see through the tears that threatened to fall. She couldn't… she couldn't bring herself to do the act, yet she knew she must. The disgust in what she was about to do didn't outweigh the fact that more of the enemy would come looking for their dead comrade. She didn't know how much time was left before they'd be found.

Looking behind her, she saw Limone cowering behind the tree. She couldn't bring herself to let the girl see what she was about to do. It was something she didn't think the young Sibylla should see; no one should see it. The knife in her hand felt strangely unfamiliar. She looked down at the cool metal blade; it wasn't meant for what she was going to use it for. A knife was meant for food, for cutting vegetation, even for skinning small game. It was not meant for human skin. It was not meant to slice through the layers and saw through bone.

Perhaps if she had been religious, she would have prayed to Tempus Spatium for guidance. She may have prayed for the soul of the dead soldier and she may have prayed for forgiveness. She might have felt guilty that she had sinned and partaken in such a cannibalistic activity, but the truth was, she wasn't the religious sort of Sibylla. She would do what she had to, even if the mere thought made her sick.

Taking a deep breath, Aaeru pressed the blade to the cool skin. It did nothing, not even a tiny cut or trickle of blood. She blinked, trying to clear her vision. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed harder. She felt the blade slip in easier, down through the layers. She didn't want to bring herself to open her eyes, but she had to. She couldn't very well cut the man's hand loose completely blind.

All it took was that one look. She saw the blood flowing freely, dripping over his uniform and the auriga seat. She turned her head, hanging it over the Simoun. She heaved heavily, feeling the contents of her stomach churn. She couldn't keep it down as she emptied the contents onto the ground below. Up came the lunch she'd had earlier. She gulped in the fresh air, trying to calm her stomach, hoping that she didn't have to throw up again. She looked back toward the soldier's hand and hung her head over the Simoun once more. Her head throbbed with each heave, a headache from hit from the butt of the rifle.

She knew she'd have to keep her stomach in check if she expected to take care of everything in a timely manner. When her stomach finally felt like it had settled enough, she turned back around. Her stomach threatened to disagree, but this time she kept it down. While she'd been throwing up, the blood had continued to trickle out of the cut she'd made. Some of it had begun to congeal.

Again, the knife pressed against the skin. If she pretended it were something else she was cutting through, like a chunk of steak, it wasn't so bad. She could try and pretend it was a raw steak, one that was pale in color. She gently shook her head as her stomach churned once more. She was beginning to lose her focus. Steak. Okay. Slicing through steak. And then she hit the bone. Steaks certainly didn't have bones.

The sound of the knife sliding against the bone grated at her. She moved her hand back and forth quickly, hoping that the speed would somehow pass the time faster. The faster time passed, the faster she would have this task completely. Her eagerness to speed began to wear on her arm and she had to briefly stop a few times and shake her wrist, flexing her hand. By the time the knife slipped through the other side of the wrist, she was exhausted. She'd accomplished the first part of the task. The hand was separated from the body. Now all she had to do was cut off the fingers from the control and she would be able to leave.

By now, the auriga cockpit was covered in the blood of the soldier. The severed arm continued to spurt every now and then, adding on to the blood coughed out by the soldier himself. The stench Aaeru had quickly gotten used to, but she could not get used to the squelching of her boots on the liquid. She had helped to cover the Simoun in something that was never meant to grace the inside of the craft.

She took a deep breath again. She'd been tricked by the easiest of decoys. How could she ever report that she fell for a trap by the enemy made of tubing and twigs bound together? She'd been so intent on showing the rest of Chor Tempest that she could fight and that the Chor would be ready for battle that she'd let herself be fooled by the first sign of a chance at the enemy, or information on the enemy from Chor Caput. She was frustrated with herself for dragging Limone into it all. She had been intent on showing the child prodigy that at least someone was capable of succeeding in battle. And she had failed.

Aaeru continued to berate herself as she sawed through the rest of the fingers on the right hand. She grimaced as they fell silently to the floor of the cockpit. They looked so unnatural there… she wiped her brow. There wasn't any time to ponder what was right and wrong. A glance toward the sky told her that morning was beginning to approach. She had to work quickly if she and Limone were to leave before it was too light.

The other hand was all that was left. Aaeru wasn't sure if she could take repeating her actions, but there was no time. She looked at the bloodied blade of her knife and began to press it against skin once more. By now the man was cold, unnaturally cold. His body must be in full rigor mortis by now. The slicing began once more. It was all she could do to distract herself from thinking about what she had done and was still doing.

Finally, she cut the last of the fingers off. The controls were free. The sky was growing lighter by the minute. If an enemy were to fly by, they would be completely exposed. Her exhaustion level was high. As soon as she could get the soldier out of the cockpit, she could get Limone and they would leave. She wanted to be far away from this place. The fingers were easiest to get rid of. She tossed them as far into the forest as she could. All that was left was the body. She braced her legs against the front of the Simoun and began to pull. She was tired and the man was quite heavy.

At first she couldn't get him to budge at all. She placed a hand on either side of the front of his uniform and pulled again. He began to lift from the seat. She pulled harder and found herself losing her balance. She fell backwards, keeping a tight grasp on the soldier. He fell with her and she let go. She rolled herself backwards as soon as she hit the ground to prevent serious injury, but pain still racked her brain. It wasn't an easy tumble to tackle. She hissed to herself, sitting up gently. She breathed heavily, trying to get her grasp on reality and numb the pain she felt all over. Forcing herself to task would dull it.

She shouted loudly, calling for Limone. They had to move the body away from the Simoun. She was hesitant to touch it again, but it was a must. Why wasn't Limone answering her shouts? Had she fallen asleep? They had to move before anyone saw them.

After she kissed Limone, she settled into the cockpit. It was gross and disgusting, but she'd bear it for now. She had no choice. She guided the Simoun into the air, but was quiet on the way back. Tiredness and the reality of war hitting home was too much for her. She was sure she'd have to explain herself upon their arrival, but she would only give the necessary details. The Simoun would need to be cleaned, and she would let no one else do it. "Sorry…" she whispered. "I'm so sorry…"


End file.
